


Which Door?

by Scarlett_Peacock



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Fostering AU, adoption au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 07:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14038983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Peacock/pseuds/Scarlett_Peacock
Summary: "He is greeted by his new foster parents in the living room of the Glasgow Fostering Centre, both of them wearing smiles and warm winter jackets. This is the tenth time they’ve met, he thinks, but for the first time he isn’t exactly sure what to say."Families come in different shapes and sizes. Not all begin the same. He hopes, he wonders if this could be it for him?





	Which Door?

**Author's Note:**

> This is another contribution to Gotham-Ruaidh's writing workshop on Tumblr. The prompt was "which door?"   
> I'm a massive fan of the Fraser family, so when I get the opportunity to write something about them I'm there with bells on! I'm really proud and genuinely love this story and hope you all like it too!
> 
> With love - S x

 

**  
Day One  
  
**

He is greeted by his new foster parents in the living room of the Glasgow Fostering Centre, both of them wearing smiles and warm winter jackets. This is the tenth time they’ve met, he thinks, but for the first time he isn’t exactly sure what to say.   
  


Shyness creeps over him like a fog, tying up his tongue into untangleable knots. He has with him a black bin bag, filled with the few belongings of his that didn’t fit into his school backpack. He wonders if it looks like his treasures should be thrown into the recycling bins outside, rather than being stored safely away.   
  


“We’ve brought you a suitcase,” The woman starts, “I wasn’t sure if you had a big enough one so we brought you a new one.”   
  


He hadn’t noticed it standing behind them.   
  


“It matches ours.” The man adds, pushing forward a large green case with black handles and wheels that stick out at awkward angles. There is a luggage tag tied to the handle, his name and their address written across it in black ink.   
  


He still isn’t sure what to say, so instead he steps forward, takes hold of the handles and grins as widely as he can manage.   
  


——————–  
  


When he gets to the house, he is in awe. It is the biggest house he thinks he’s ever seen and when he begins walking toward it, he feels a sudden feeling of warmth that hadn’t ever come with the other foster parents homes. There are chairs, and books, photographs and paintings of people that he thinks should be in a museum.   
  


They walk up a huge staircase onto the first floor of the house, they tell him. A long corridor meets him, with led lined windows shining dancing beams of sunlight onto the wooden floors beneath his feet.   
  


He looks up at the woman, with her kind eyes and asks her, “Which door?”   
  


There are a dozen, he thinks - well, really maybe six.   
  


“Oh!” She answers, as though she’s surprised he’s asked the question. “We wanted to let you pick.”

 

He is shocked. This hasn’t ever happened before.   
  


“They’re all ready and waiting, ken? Ye can have whichever one ye want.” The man finishes, gesturing to the doors before them.   
  


His mouth drops and he runs to open the door closest to him.   
  


——————————————   
  


**Day Four  
  
**

The first nightmare strikes him the night before, and his foster parents appear at the door with comforting words and hot chocolate, because apparently “chocolate fixes everything.”   
  


It’s the darkness, he thinks. He hasn’t ever been in the countryside before and the new sounds and the lack of orange streetlights make the shadows on the wall growl and prowl, climbing up the quilts and into his dreams.   
  


He tells the man quietly, and the man simply nods. An hour later they are driving back to Glasgow, and straight to Ikea for string lights and brighter bulbs. She asks him if he would like to pick out new bed sheets while they’re in the store, and a new lamp that can sit by his bed to cast out those grizzly shadows.   
  


They return with blue gingham bed linens, a large pillow with his initial on it and string lights shaped like tiny Edison bulbs.   
  


——————————————   
  


**Day Twenty  
  
**

He comes back from school, and his head hangs heavy as his heart feels.   
  


He got the lowest score in the class on a maths exam and he’s sure they’ll be angry.   
  


When dinner is served, he finally confesses, waiting for their impending anger at his failure. Instead, it is the opposite entirely. His foster mum looks at him, takes hold of his hand and says, “Oh don’t worry! We’ll figure it out.”   
  


——————————————   
  


**Day Thirty**   
  


His foster dad takes him to a rugby game at Murrayfield in Edinburgh. There’s music and chanting everywhere, and the best burgers he’d ever tasted from a van called ‘The Hot Scot’. His foster dad buys him a Scotland Rugby scarf, navy blue with thistles on either side, and a Scotland Rugby hat that sits atop his mop of curly hair.  
  


He realises he’s not quite sure what to do at a rugby match, and he’s not sure exactly how the game works, but he loves every moment of it.   
  


——————————————   
  


**Day Forty  
  
**

They ask if he’d like to paint his room, and he asks, “What colour?” because it’s their house, and he doesn’t want to pick something they might not like.   
  


His foster mum and dad look at him confused, and she replies, “Sweetheart, it’s your room. You can paint it whatever colour you like.”   
  


The room is painted cobalt blue, with the Scottish Rugby scarf hung above his bed.   
  


——————————————   
  


**Day Ninety  
  
**

They ask if he’d like to stay.  
  


“More permanently, obviously.” His foster mum says, playing with her wedding ring in a nervous fashion.   
  


“You don’t have to, we can stay exactly as we are.” His foster dad offers, placing a large hand onto his shoulder. “This is entirely up to you.”   
  


He ponders for a moment, then asks, “Do I have to change my name?”  
  


“Not if you don’t want to.” His foster mum replies, her wobbling voice betraying her reassuring smile.  
  


He thinks again, looking at their faces filled with such anticipation for his answer.  
  

“I think Fergus Fraser sounds verra manly.” Fergus replies, beaming gloriously.  
  


Claire and Jamie Fraser break into hysterical laughter, tears of joy bubbling in their eyes.   
  


“Oh aye,” Jamie replies, “Verra manly my lad.”


End file.
